


Dug Deep

by SterekoTypes



Category: teen wolf - Fandom
Genre: Happy Ending, Historical AU, M/M, WW1, soldier!sterek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 22:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2749487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SterekoTypes/pseuds/SterekoTypes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek are on opposing sides of the First World War. But they happen to meet on the famous Christmas Armstice, and well, things escalate from there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dug Deep

Derek waited a day before telling his mother he was going to war. He didn’t really need to tell her in the end. It was expected of him, of any young man at the time. He regretted his decision now that he was sitting in this stinking pit of despair and trench foot. Derek kicked at the muddy ground, and a bit of the foul liquid splashed back at him and landed on his already stained shirt.

“Shit.” He grumbled. It was already bad enough that he had been here for three months, without his family while constantly being fired on. It was bad enough that he didn’t have a moment to spare when the cannons, maxim gun, and the mustard gas was fired, but now it was Christmas Eve and he was still here, fighting for his life. His family probably thought he was doing something heroic- he wasn’t.

it was silent outside. Nobody was making any noise. Then out of the still night, a song rose up. It flowed gracefully over the walls of the trenches, across no man’s land, and landed in the lap of the British forces. The Germans were singing. Silent Night, Derek realized. He could even recognize the versus they were on.

“Round young virgin, mother and child,” Someone farther in the trenches sang along. Derek found himself smiling in the way he hadn’t smiled since he left home.

“Sleep in heavenly peace

Sleep in heavenly peace.” The end of it haunted bitterly in his ears. The last notes seemed to mock him. There would be no peace.

“Fröliche Weinachten!” Came the cry from across no man's land from the Germans. Derek didn't understand German.

“Merry Christmas to you, too!” Replied perhaps the same man who had begun the singing.

Soon, the sun rose and the snow on the ground glinted in the sunlight. Derek was relaxed at his station, in much of the way the others manning the guns on the wall were.

“Attention!” Came the cry from his commanding officer. “Guns at ready!” He yelled loudly.

Derek scrambled to make sure his gun was loaded and ready. He could feel the mud around his boots, dragging him down slowly. Derek could see the outline of a lone figure, his hands were raised, and he didn't run towards the British trenches. There were men behind him, mirroring his pose. Derek looked over to his commanding officer. He looked confused. Derek always knew that commander was good for nothing. Derek shook his head, and struggling to pull his boots from the mud; Derek climbed from the trench and copied the approach of the German soldiers. It wasn't long before Derek meet the Germans in the middle. He hadn't noticed the other British soldiers exit their posts in the trenches, but soon two-thirds of the British forces were at his back. Derek stood face to face with the German soldier.

The man was gorgeous, in a decisively platonic way. Derek was standing close enough to see every lash in his eyelash, and a bright flush covering his cheek. The German stuck out a hand, and for a moment, all Derek could do was stare at his hand.

What was he supposed to do with that? Realization struck him. His hand shot out and he gripped his hand, hard. A smile formed on the German’s face, and that seemed to release the floodgates. Suddenly, the all of the men had broken their tight lines and merged into one big group.

“I am Stiles.” The German man, Stiles, said in English.

“Derek.” Derek returned and they stood there frozen, their hands linked and silly smiles on their faces. Unfortunately, this lasted only for a second more, because Stiles dropped his hand from the hold.

Stiles and Derek spent the day talking to each other, laughing at each other’s stories, and playing cards. They didn't bother much with the rest of the troops, until when someone from somewhere pulled out a real football. Stiles and Derek looked at each other, and both having the same thoughts, smiled wide. There was some pushing and shoving between the two to get to the impromptu football game first. Stiles won that. Soon they had their coats off, without regard to the chill in the air.

Derek found himself repeatedly drifting off, watching Stiles. He was fluid, graceful. Derek then understood why people loved ballets. It was beautiful to watch someone fly, in a way you never thought you could.

Derek hit the ground quickly, and without mercy. Someone in their haste to get to the ball had bowled him over. Derek was helped up, by the man who knocked him over, a British soldier that Derek had seen before.

“Mate? You alright there?”

“Yeah, fine.” Derek wasn’t fine, he was distracted by Stiles standing across their makeshift field laughing hard at him. Derek could feel his blush blazing across his cheeks. He looked away from Stiles.

“I hope you shoot better than you play football.” Stiles said slapping a hand on his shoulder. Derek was startled and Stiles’s sudden presence, but then he laughed.

“I hope I do, too.” The shared a smile, their eyes never leaving one another's. Then a bomb went off in the distance, and, without pause, the trance was broken. He looked for his coat, and found Stiles's instead. He held onto it, and when he found his own coat, he put the chocolate he had received the morning before into Stiles's coat. It was easier to find Stiles. When he found Stiles, he put his coat in his hands with a smile. Derek had never been sadder to see someone go.

Back in his own trench, Derek couldn’t stop thinking about Stiles. Not while the gun fire rang out, or the bombs exploded, and especially not when he killed others. Every time a German soldier fell, he felt fear in the very beginnings of his soul.

He received his mail as usual the next morning. There was a letter in the stack, obviously for him, but without a return address.

Derek,

I hope this letter finds you alive. I don't really know what to say. I hope you can forgive what I've done. Shit, I shouldn't even send this. It's crazy to think it would ever find you. And if they knew you were keeping correspondence with a German. I don't even want to think about it.

Stay safe,

Stiles.

Derek didn’t waste time, responding. He wavered on the last lines of his letter:

Would it be weird for me to miss you? I do. You should have my address, and when we get out of this we can [Can what? Derek wondered. Why was he having all of these confusing feelings? He couldn't be- couldn't have that type of affliction could he?] get some beers at a pub or something.

Somehow, Derek found a way to send the letter. And it wasn't long before he was getting letters back. It continued like that for a long time and every night that he received a letter from Stiles, he went to sleep with a smile on his face.

“Beer, yeah. In German, we call it Gerstensatt.”

“Gerstensatt? I do know the word for friend in German.”

“Sorry, it took so long to write you back. You've become quite good in German.”

“Just thought I should be able to talk with you in whatever language you choose.”

“You've always been kind to me, even when your entire country hates mine. Why?”

“I couldn't hate you. Even if you actually eat that – what did you call it? Sauerkraut? But despite your weird tastes in food I think I might actually… love you.”

Stiles cried when he read those words. They came far too late. The war was over and Stiles was prepared to live happily with Derek for the rest of his life. But Stiles, had to settle for something else.

He had to settle for getting treated like shit for being German in Europe. He had to live in constant poverty. Worst of all, he had to settle for visiting Derek's gravestone instead of visiting Derek.

Before Derek died, they had made plans. It was the only thing keeping Stiles sane during the war. They hadn't used the word, love. Not once, but Stiles was fully prepared to. Now, Stiles had to settle for being alone.

People who had never met him deemed him, “one of the lucky ones.” They didn't know that the years he knew Derek, were the best of his life. He had to settle on a memory that he refused to let fade, and letters that wore from his constant reading.

That, in the end, was the worst part for Stiles. He had to live his life, wondering what could have been.

One day, there was a knock on Stiles's door. It was Christmas Day,1932, there were a lot of people who had died from hunger, with the rise of prices. Stiles was barely keeping the house, and he was afraid that he would lose his job. For some reason, somebody in the government thought it would be a good idea to print a bunch of money. People were dying all around him.

Stiles opened the door, and was more than shocked to find Derek standing there, his hair dis-shelved and a sheepish smile on his face.

"I thought you were dead." Stiles told the apparition. This couldn't be, how could- there was no way.

"It's me, Stiles. I came back for you." Stiles grabbed Derek's wrist without hesitation then pulled him into the house.

"Where have you been, Derek? You promised, you'd be there. Right after the war. I've been waiting on that drink for some time now." Stiles said. Derek's head drooped and he murmured his answer.

"While I was in those trenches, someone set a fire to my house. They killed my entire family." he said softly. Stiles threw himself into Derek's arms.

"I'm so sorry, Derek. You shouldn't have had to deal with that," Stiles paused. Derek looked to Stiles's eyes, and when Derek felt like he couldn't take the love he saw there, Stiles kissed him. For Derek it felt like the sun had exploded. Stiles felt like his world was merging back together sealing itself the way it was meant to be. Maybe Stiles could forget the atrocities he has seen during the war, but he couldn't help but to feel like there was so much more he hadn't seen. He wished he could hide from it in Derek's arms forever. But there was no way. Whatever was coming, Stiles knew for certain, they'd face it together.


End file.
